


First Dawn

by phoenixflight



Category: The Goblin Emperor - Katherine Addison
Genre: Canon Compliant, Csevet POV, First Meetings, Gen, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2020-02-27 07:55:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18734824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixflight/pseuds/phoenixflight
Summary: The Archduke Maia Drazhar is not at all what Csevet expects.Csevet made his best court obeisance, on the worn and dusty rug, aware as he did so of the Archduke’s discomfiture, and his guardian’s unseemly indignation, but also aware that despite the personal desires of anyone in the room, there was only one way to greet the emperor-presumptive, the new Ethuverazhid Zhas. “Your Imperial Serenity.”





	First Dawn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [liesmyth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/liesmyth/gifts).



> Is this fandom still alive? I just finished this book and it fucking devoured my brain, so I hope some folks are still around to scream with me.   
> Dedicated to elle because this is all her fucking fault <3

Csevet knew from the moment the sealed missive was placed in his hand, that it was quite possibly the most important message he had ever been entrusted with. It was not because Lord Chavar held him in any great esteem, or indeed, even knew his name, but because Captain Volsharezh and Lord Chavar’s head secretary, Litho Neleban, both respected his speed, discretion, and loyalty. That, Csevet reflected as he accepted the letter,  was a far more meaningful compliment. 

“An airship departs for Edonomee within the hour,” Neleban had said, and Csevet had dipped his head with the proper degree of respect for someone of the same rank but a higher professional status and departed with the letter tucked in his dispatch case, leaving the uproar of the Untheileneise Court to catch the  _ Radiance of Cairado _ . 

Edonomee was the kind of dismal backwater that court couriers rarely had reason to visit, except to deliver notes to exiles and to the most unpolitic sorts of lovers. Marsh mist hung thick in the streets of the town - if it could be called a town, rather than a village - making sickly halos around the gas lights, and the few windows still lit at this hour. 

The manservant who met him at the door of the manor-house, after a long wait, was dressed shabbily and sleepy-eyed. The servant, who had clearly been roused from sleep, went in turn to rouse the master of the house, Setharis Nelar. Csevet was too young to remember the incident which had ended in Setharis’ departure from court a decade previously, but the man was entitled and unpleasant in his impatience, deeply displeased when Csevet refused to deliver the letter into any hand but the Archduke’s. Still, Csevet had many years experience doing his duty in the face of petty, irritable nobility, and his court manners were easily a match for Nelar’s. Grudgingly, the man went to wake his cousin. 

Although given the decrepit condition of the estate and the village, it should not have been a surprise, still Csevet was taken aback by the appearance of the emperor-to-be. Hurrying behind Nelar was a barefoot boy - a young man, really, Csevet’s own age, but sleep rumpled and wide-eyed, he looked more childish than his years - whose gaze met Csevet’s with something like alarm. He was untidily dressed, hair unbound and frizzing around his ears in the goblin curls that some found ugly but that Csevet had always considered charming. Half-goblin, the boy was, but fine-boned and tall, despite the slight hunch to his posture; Csevet could see the imperial bloodline in his sharp cheekbones and gray eyes. “Are you Archduke Maia Drazhar, only child of Varenechibel the Fourth and Chenelo Drazharan?” he asked, just to be sure.

The Archduke’s voice was soft and uncertain. “Yes.” 

Csevet made his best court obeisance, on the worn and dusty rug, aware as he did so of the Archduke’s discomfiture, and his guardian’s unseemly indignation, but also aware that despite the personal desires of anyone in the room, there was only one way to greet the emperor-presumptive, the new Ethuverazhid Zhas. “Your Imperial Serenity.” 

As he explained about the crash of the  _ Wisdom of Choharo _ , he watched Maia Drazhar’s face carefully, fully aware that he might never be this near the man again after today, and also that he, Csevet, was the first person in the whole of the Elflands to get to form an impression of the new emperor. 

The Archduke took the news with the kind of silent shock that could have been mistaken at a distance for poise. Though his skin did not go pale, even in the uncertain light of the gas lamps Csevet could see the vitality of blood leave his face. Csevet did not know if it was the news of the deaths, or of their deeper implication for the succession. By all accounts, Varenechibel had not loved his youngest son at all, and it was difficult to imagine that familial affection went the other way either. 

When Csevet held out the letter from the Lord Chancellor, Setharis Nelar snatched it out of his hand in a manner that would have been uncouth in the best of circumstances, and bordered on appalling in front of his new emperor, but Maia Drazhar hardly seemed to notice. 

There were whispers at court that he was simple, and when he fumbled for the letter that Nelar practically threw at him, Csevet could see what unkind tongues would say. Bending quickly to retrieve the sheet of paper, Csevet handed it to him, and saw the flash of embarrassment and discomfiture that crossed his features. Not simple, just a young man roused in the middle of the night with news that he must never have expected under the wildest circumstances, and clearly habituated to his cousin’s temper. 

His ears and eyes were expressive, and Csevet felt a flash of compassion for this boy who looked more like a courier candidate that Csevet might have taken under his wing to advise and mentor, than like an emperor-to-be. 

The feeling intensified when the Archduke collected himself enough to ask after Csevet’s wellbeing, and to send for the house servant to make him comfortable. It was a thoughtfulness that two thirds of nobility couldn’t be bothered with even with nothing more pressing on their minds. 

_ He will be eaten alive by the Untheileneise, _ Csevet thought suddenly. 

The new emperor would have allies if he knew where to look, people who had no fondness for his father, and those loyal to the throne rather than the man on it, but it was painfully obvious that Maia Drazhar would not have the first idea where to start. With only the dubious support of Setharis Nelar, he would be as good as alone. 

Csevet wondered bleakly if he would become a puppet for someone else’s power, or simply killed. The cup of astringent tea that the house-servant poured him did nothing to warm him. 

When Nelar and the Archduke re-emerged from their private conference, Csevet was pleasantly surprised to find that they would be returning to the Untheileneise Court with him that very morning, aboard the  _ Radiance of Cairado _ . Having read the letter from the Chancellor - a message of such importance on such a momentous day was a temptation that no red-blooded courier would fault him for giving into - he knew that it was not in accordance with Lord Chavar’s instructions, and Csevet thought them both wiser for it. It was his own dark thoughts, or perhaps the sound of the Archduke’s voice, for he had a sweet tenor and a mild manner, even as clearly distressed as he was, that made Csevet volunteer his own organizational skills to help them prepare for the journey at the last minute. 

Within a few hours, the household at Edonomee was put into hibernation, windows and doors locked, braziers and lamps put out, instructions left with the manservant for the sleep-away staff, and personal belongings gathered, though there were precious few of those for two members of the Drazhideise. 

Aboard the airship Csevet observed, with something dangerously like affection, Maia Drazhar’s efforts at Imperial dignity, overlaid with what seemed to be a natural impulse to courtesy. He was as solemn as a courier entrusted with his first serious message. It was impossible not to feel protective toward him, in his shabby mourning clothes, with his hair messily braided and his ears drooping. 

In the hold of the ship, the Archduke sat rigidly at his elbow, staring into the middle distance without making eye contact with anyone. Csevet was struck again by the fineness of his features, accentuated with his hair pulled back from his face. Although he was clearly making an effort to maintain a neutral expression, his ears were low and his mouth very slightly downturned. It was almost dawn and he had been wakened after only a few hours of sleep. Csevet himself, who had not slept since rising at his usual early hour the previous day, before the wreck of the  _ Wisdom of Choharo _ , felt sympathy for his exhaustion. He knew that once arrived at Court, they would have an even longer day ahead of them both. 

The invitation to view the sunrise was well-conceived on behalf of the airship Captain, and Csevet felt an unwarranted touch of pride as the Archduke accepted gracefully. But he was truly shocked when Maia Drazhar turned to him and said, without stumbling over the formal first, this time, “Would you accompany us, please?” 

Perhaps he should not have been so startled, he reflected, as it was clearly a maneuver to exclude Nelar, but it was not the least graceful evasion Csevet had seen in his time at Court. Perhaps there was a chance for the reign of Maia Zhas afterall, Csevet thought, and then scolded himself for it.  _ Thou mustn’t think of him so familiarly. He will be thy emperor before the week is out.  _

In the cockpit of the airship, Csevet glanced curiously over the dials and instruments, which he had never had occasion to see before, and then looked out at the sky. 

The molten radiance of the sun breaking through the pink and peach clouds on the horizon was truly glorious, but Csevet had seen many fine sunrises, from airships, mountain ridges, and the east-facing bedchambers of various nobles. It was not the most interesting thing in his feild of vision this morning. Instead, he let his gaze rest unobtrusively on Maia Drazhar. 

Gold light washed over the emperor’s features, turning his slate-colored skin luminous. His lips were slightly parted, an expression of quite genuine wonder and awe on his face as he watched the sun rise. His eyes shone, gray and clear, and so,  _ so _ young. 

_ Whatever happens, _ Csevet thought to himself,  _ however long or short, the reign of Maia Drazhar will be one for the history books.  _

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are love!   
> Follow me on tumblr at [ stillwaterseas](http://stillwaterseas.tumblr.com/) or come scream in my inbox.


End file.
